


(they say) i should give you up

by ristonee



Category: Baseball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: Age Difference, Angst, Barebacking, Blowjobs, Dom/sub Undertones, Hate Sex, I'm Going to Hell, M/M, PWP, Pain Kink, Slut Shaming, Spanking, one instance of slight dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-17
Updated: 2017-02-17
Packaged: 2018-09-24 17:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9775418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ristonee/pseuds/ristonee
Summary: It’s always hotel rooms. The sheets are always slightly scratchy, everything sterile, and the lamps stay off. It’s fumbly and dirty in the dark and that’s just how they both want it.The Padres have won two nights in a row on walkoffs, and some part of Joc wants it even fumblier and dirtier.Matt gives it to him.





	

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  uhm heed the tags cause they're the wildest i've ever had to use by far. idk why in my last fic i stated that i had lost all of my chill when clearly i had alot more to lose. don't worry it's all gone now :) (i am so sorry). shout out to [gericault](http://archiveofourown.org/users/gericault/pseuds/gericault) for letting me stress abt this for months in her inbox ;-;
> 
> i'm actually gonna leave this unlocked for a bit, please don't make me regret it.
> 
> set after the Padres beat the Dodgers twice in consecutive walkoffs in May 2016, title is from Ariana Grande.
> 
>  
> 
>   **Note about the slight dubcon can be found at the end. It is a bit spoilery, but if it's something you're concerned about please use your discretion. The scene in question starts shortly after the second ~ page break**
> 
>  

 

 

Joc doesn’t know if he hates Kemp so much as resents the memory of him in LA. The way some of the guys laugh and reminisce together, Kemp’s name sometimes thrown into the conversation, then they look over at Joc like, oh, you had to be there.

_Matt was the best. Remember that one time in 2012?_ Joc does, but he was in the minors, wasn’t he.

Andre was drunk during sex once and moaned Kemp’s name by accident. He didn’t even notice. Joc did.

( _Matt, meanwhile, has plenty of reason to hate Joc. He stole Matt’s job, his role on the team, pushed him out into San Diego and away from Andre. He has plenty of reason to look at Joc’s round, cherubic face, and want to fuck him up entirely. Get him crying and drooling on his dick, get his cheeks red and tear-stained, his pale neck marked up with bites, his hips with bruises._

_So he does._ )

It’s always hotel rooms. Joc isn’t ever inclined to explain that situation to a roommate, and he doesn’t know or care where Kemp lives, so it’s always hotel rooms. The sheets are always slightly scratchy, everything sterile, and the lamps stay off. It’s fumbly and dirty in the dark and that’s just how they both want it.

The Padres have won two nights in a row on walkoffs, and some part of Joc wants it even fumblier and dirtier.

Matt gives it to him.

-

“Watch it,” Joc hisses, kicking his leg out of Kemp’s grip. His right calf is a bit sore tonight for some reason, and the digging of Kemp’s fingers into the muscle just now was not appreciated. Kemp, however, doesn’t bat an eye before grabbing his calf again, pressing in even harsher for a moment.

Something between a whimper and a moan falls out of Joc’s mouth. His cock is stiff in his sweatpants, undeterred by the pain. He can almost feel Kemp smirking at him through the darkness.

“Dick,” Joc mutters.

“Yeah, alright,” Kemp says, wasting no more time in getting his hands on Joc’s waistband. He pulls his pants down in one swift movement and throws them off the bed. “Should start wearing underwear more often,” he comments. “Someone might get the wrong impression,” he shoves himself between Joc’s legs, nipping at the inside of his thighs, his beard scratching at smooth skin. He’s grown it out quite a bit since leaving, and much like when Andre does the same, Joc can’t say he hates it.

“What’s the wrong impression,” he grunts out as Kemp sucks a hickey onto his inner thigh. It’s quiet besides Joc’s stuttering breath for a moment until Kemp finishes off with a firm bite that makes Joc whine.

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Kemp, a hand coming up to just brush over Joc’s neglected cock. Joc’s hips jerk and Kemp pulls his hand away again. “Maybe that you’re a _slut_ ,” he says, and before Joc can formulate a response he takes Joc’s dick into his mouth, sucking the head then sliding down, down, down, until he has Joc deep in his throat, hot and tight and fucking perfect, and Joc wants to curse him and thank him at the same time. His brain settles for a long involuntary moan.

Kemp gets into it quick, letting his mouth get wet around Joc and using the slickness to make it an easy slide of his lips around the shaft of Joc's cock, a hand wrapped around the base. Joc's hands fly down to grip at at the defined muscles of Kemp's t-shirt covered shoulders. His hips attempt to thrust up again, but Kemp slings an arm across them and pushes down and fuck, he's so strong.

Joc was all wired up already, can feel himself tumbling towards orgasm too fast, can't stop it, and Kemp reaches up to cover Joc's mouth with a palm and muffle his moans. Joc shakes through it, his fingernails digging into Kemp's shoulders and breathing harsh and damp into his hand as Kemp swallows his come.

He doesn't say anything after for a minute. Kemp pulls off with an obscene noise and promptly tugs his shirt off, nodding at Joc to do the same. Joc sits up and tugs his shirt over his head, the cool air on his sweaty back making him shiver. His pulse is still racing as he tilts his chin up at Kemp, trying hard to keep his eyes from flickering to Kemp's chest.

"If I'm a slut, what does that make you?" he asks after catching his breath a bit.

"Ha," Kemp says with little mirth. "Makes me a daredevil, doesn't it? Who knows what I could catch tonight."

Joc's face flares up.

"Oh please, don't act like you haven't been fucking Myers since you got here," he spits. "You love getting off on having young guys stroke your huge ego."

"Really thought you were going somewhere else with that," says Kemp dryly. He pulls what looks like a packet of lube from the pocket of his pants then shucks them off. "Y'know, if you're that scared that Myers is a better fuck than you, you should get around to proving it false." He's still wearing boxer-briefs, either dark blue or black, Joc can't tell in dimness, but they're definitely not doing much to hide Kemp's sizable erection. Joc's mouth waters.

It's- okay, there's just no getting around it- Kemp does have a big dick. Joc has had enough experience with it to attest to this, has dealt with an achy jaw and sore throat on several occasions, a sore ass on several others. The good news is that Kemp more than knows what he's doing with it- Joc can attest to that as well.

Kemp rubs a hand over the bulge once before moving, shoving Joc out of the way so they can switch positions.

"First you can suck my dick," he says, settling against the headboard while ever-so-politely pushing his briefs down to right under his balls, and Joc parts his lips subconsciously. "Then if you're good, I'll fuck you so hard you scream, the way you like it." His tone is very matter-of-fact - this isn't something that's up for discussion. Part of Joc wants to protest out of pride, but then Kemp is pushing Joc's head down and onto his dick with a demanding “Hands behind your back.” Joc gets the hint, licking up the shaft once, nice and wet, tasting musk and moaning, before taking half of Kemp's length into his mouth. He finds his balance on his knees before crossing his wrists and setting them into the arch of his own back.

"Fuck yeah," Kemp sighs. Joc doesn't look up to watch him, could barely see if he tried, but Kemp's cock hardening the rest of the way on his tongue is all the reaction he needs. He’s thick as well as long, right at the edge of Joc’s limits but beyond what he thought his limits were not too long ago. Kemp doesn't take it easy, and Joc just tries to make his mouth as open and wet as possible. The head of Kemp's cock nudges harshly at the back of Joc's throat on only the third or fourth thrust, making him cough lightly and his eyes water, but he still doesn't let up.

"Yeah, Wil's mouth isn't as good as yours, not even close," he says, conversational, and Joc hates how the words make him flush. "Maybe that's not fair though, huh? You got a little more natural talent, and _tons_ more practice."

Joc backs off just long enough to rasp “Fuck you,” the effect unquestionably marred by the spit dripping down his chin, and the fact that Kemp doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s spoken, just pushes his cock back into Joc’s mouth.

“Like you were made for it,” Kemp groans. “Made for sucking cock, such a slut for it. You love it, don’t you? You’re getting hard again, aren’t you?”

Fuck, Joc is, has been for the past few minutes, fingers itching to reach for his dick. Kemp wouldn’t like it, which makes Joc want to do it even more. He goes for it.

“Don’t you _dare_ ,” Kemp snarls. He thrusts brutally into Joc’s mouth, choking him, and the hand that Joc was going to touch himself with has to slam down onto the mattress for him to keep balance. He tries to swallow properly around Kemp, but Kemp keeps at it, his dick sliding in and out of Joc’s mouth faster and fuck, Joc has tears falling down his cheeks and can barely breathe and it’s fucking fantastic.

“Greedy whore, you’ve already come once, and you didn’t even earn it, didn’t even win tonight. You need to get your act together, Pederson.” He sits up halfway, grabs Joc’s hair at the back of his head tightly for more leverage to fuck his mouth thoroughly. Joc is gonna have a tough time talking tomorrow. “Andre fucking babies you, lets you think you’re the shit all the time,” Kemp continues, his voice now carrying an edge of anger. “You’re fucking not, you could be replaced in a hot minute, and you will be if you keep it up, I would know.” His hold on Joc loosens, and Joc takes the chance to push against it, to turn his eyes up at Kemp for the first time in a while.

“Way to go, turning this into another pity party for yourself,” he says, annoyed, his throat burning against the words. “I didn’t come here to hear this shit again.”

“Right,” Kemp says. He smacks Joc’s wet face, just hard enough to hurt. “You’re gonna pay for that,” he promises.

-

Joc moans as Kemps fingers leave his body. Kemp set him on his hands and knees and worked him up to four and kept him there for ages, stroking him inside and just teasing at his prostate. Joc won’t resort to begging, hates to when it comes to Kemp, but his cock dripping onto the sheets for the past five minutes has probably done it well enough for him. He’s ready, he’s so ready, he needs to get fucked out of his mind pronto, if Kemp doesn’t get to it, he’ll do it himself.

And then Kemp’s hands are on his hips, and his cock is _there_ , bare and pressing and- wait,

“What the fuck,” Joc says, shifting away. “Didn’t you bring a condom?”

“Thought I would really be a daredevil tonight,” Kemp says casually, a contrast to his fingers tightening on Joc’s hips. “Don’t act like you’ve never done it before.”

“I- with Dre, yeah, but I don’t- fuck!” Kemp’s used his brute strength to pull Joc back, knees sliding roughly on the sheets, at the same time as he snaps his hips forward, and fuck, he’s so big, and hot, and Joc needs, he needs just a second, it’s too much sensation, too fast. Kemp doesn’t give him any time at all, though, just grips Joc’s right shoulder for leverage and sets a hard and punishing rhythm.

“You don’t what?” Kemp asks, leaning over Joc as he pounds him. Joc whines. Despite the prep, the shock of Kemp’s thick cock pushing into him so quickly had him wound tight all over again and he’s still desperately trying to adjust, and he should _so_ not be this hard right now. “You don’t want it? That one’s not gonna work at this point, kid.” Kemp slows down a bit, changes the angle of his hips just so, so there’s one perfect slide against that spot inside Joc that makes Joc sees stars. He moans pitifully.

“I don’t fucking _like you_ , that’s what,” he hisses lowly, eyes clenched shut and head hanging down shamefully between his shoulders.

“Good,” says Kemp, setting his teeth right on the back of Joc’s neck, keeping his thrusts relentless, hips slapping against Joc’s ass audibly. The sound of them fucking is slick and dirty, echoing a little in a dark, ugly hotel room, and Joc’s not sure when the last time he felt this alive off the field was. “I don’t like you either, and as much as Dre talks you up, I probably never will. Oh fucking well.” Another hard, deep thrust.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?” Joc pushes out. Kemp hums and it’s quiet for a moment before a large, broad hand strikes Joc’s ass with a resounding smack. Joc yelps, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets, the pillows, anything. His face heats up even warmer than it already was. Kemp does it again, with a little more force, then moves to the other asscheek for one. Joc thinks maybe that’s it, Kemp’s never seemed big on spanking, but there’s another blow and it’s _hard_ , sharp pain blossoming quickly under Kemp’s hand. Joc gasps as his cock jumps traitorously. He’s dealt another, and another, until it’s apparent that Kemp’s not stopping. Each one hurts more than the last, and Kemp is still fucking him, slower now, making him feel every inch of drag.

Time starts to blur with Joc’s vision, and for a while all he knows is the pillow under his face, getting wetter with tears and spit, and Kemps cock inside him, and Kemp’s hands- first smacking Joc’s ass until he’s sobbing, then just running over the hot and tender flesh, grabbing and squeezing hard enough that Joc is sure there’ll be finger shaped bruises there by morning. His knees are starting to ache and he’s forgotten why that’s a bad thing.

“Actually fucking hate you sometimes, Pederson,” Joc hears out of the haze. Kemp is nailing Joc’s prostate every other thrust, and sounds like he’s getting close. Joc swallows against a sudden lump in his throat.

“That’s not my problem,” he says back breathlessly, pushing up onto his elbows and lifting his head to glare at the shape of a wooden headboard. “And you didn’t have to make it my problem, I didn’t ask for that.” He’s mad, he always gets mad when Kemp says this kind of shit. Joc didn’t tell Kemp to get jealous of a September call-up. He didn’t tell the front office to trade Kemp. He sure as hell didn’t tell Andre to pretty please be nice to me, take me under your wing, teach me, love me, fuck me- he wouldn’t be sorry about that one if he did, but he _didn’t_.

Kemp can’t let all of that shit go, acts like it’s Joc’s fault, and that’s why the first time they met as opposing teams ended up just like this. Kemp acts like he has something to prove, how much better he is than Joc, how much stronger, how much more deserving of Dre, whatever. And maybe in his head he does, but that’s his issue, not Joc’s, only Joc let himself get sucked into it, taunted by Kemp’s snide remarks, and now he can’t stop.

“You’re always asking for it,” Kemp says meanly. “That’s why we’re _here_ ,” he emphasizes with a deep, rolling thrust. He’s taking Joc apart, is so good at it by now, and for a moment Joc forgets what they’re talking about.

“Fuck you-” He chokes out. His tears have slowed but they never stopped, his body too overwhelmed; they just keep sliding down his cheeks to fall onto the soaked pillow. “You wouldn’t hate me if-”

“God, shut up already,” Kemp interrupts. He pushes Joc back down to his shoulders and pulls Joc’s knees out wider, and fuckfuckfuck, it gets him even deeper, balls pressing up snug. He tests the angle before picking up the pace of his thrusts again. It’s somehow even better than before and it has Joc moaning and pathetic all over again. Joc hates this. He hates how he doesn’t really hate this.

He’s so close, everything is too hot, and flashes of tonight’s game start playing in his head for some reason, his swings missing, missing, missing, where they should’ve connected, his hands unsure on the bat where now they’re gripping the sheets white-knuckled. Joc hates this but he hates losing more.

“Fuck, I can’t- I can’t- gonna,” Joc's voice rises in volume very quickly and he falls over the edge with a sound that some might call a scream, not quite muffled enough by his own fist being hurriedly shoved in his mouth. He wonders, as he sobs and shudders through one of the most intense orgasms he’s ever experienced, his cock completely untouched, sparks flying behind his eyelids and the world narrowing to Kemp’s hands on his hips, the fullness of Kemp inside him, wonders why this feels like some sort of sick win.

He comes for what seems like forever, definitely ruining the sheets under him, and is barely falling into aftershocks when Kemp lets out a deep, guttural “ _Fuck_ ” of his own and stills, pressed as deep as possible in Joc, and Joc lets out a stuttering gasp at the sensation of Kemp coming in him, barely there, but slightly warmer and wetter than he’s used to and he should be disgusted, should be furious, but instead it makes his dick twitch weakly, and he’s still lost in the pleasant haze of orgasm anyways.

It’s the kind of thing Joc will leave out later when Dre asks how the San Diego trip went, but will jerk off to the next time he’s alone in a hotel shower. He’ll tell him about the hookup, sure, but he’ll leave out a couple things.

He’ll leave out how sad Kemp looks as he drops down next to Joc, bags under his eyes looking more pronounced than just two hours ago. He’ll leave out how Kemp pulls him in, presses a messy, apologetic almost-kiss to his forehead, beard scratchy and comforting. He’ll leave out the strange tightness that’s present his chest when Kemp leaves, shutting the door behind him with a soft click, as if nothing happened, as if Joc isn’t lying on a wrecked hotel bed with bruises and bitemarks forming all over his body, muscles and heart alike aching.

But he’ll tell him everything else, including how the win they get the next day feels too tough, like a miracle they somehow pull out of midair, and how he can’t wait to get out of San Diego after the series is over.

He won’t leave out how he still resents the memory of Matty in L.A.. Or how he wishes things were different.

He especially won’t leave that last one out, because he knows Dre feels the same way.

**Author's Note:**

>   
> **dubcon warning** : The sex itself is consensual, however Matt neglects to mention that he's not going to use a condom with Joc, and doesn't give Joc a chance to say no. And while this was written as a "scene" with pre-negotiated parameters, it is not explicitly stated so during the fic at any point.  
> Let me know if I have missed any tags/warnings, thank you for reading.  
> 


End file.
